Sad Eyes
by Startisparticus2017
Summary: The partners instinctively looked toward each other and assessed they were okay, but neither of them moved. This story is based on Starsky vs Hutch. I just can't leave it alone. I needed to put one more twist. This is not a death story. Thank you to Sandy my Beta reader and Maryellen for her continued support.


**STARSKY & HUTCH**

 **Missing scene from Starsky vs. Hutch**

 _I wrote a similar version. I wasn't satisfied, so here I am again and for the last time beating my drum over Starsk vs. Hutch._

Written by: Startisparticus2017, December 13, 2016-May 2018

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I simply barrow them for entertainment purposes only. I do not receive compensation.

 **Sad Eyes**

The scene covered in dust and glass along with shattered décor from the dimly lit dance hall. Kira, an undercover female officer, comforted Joey Webster, who lay on the dance hall floor. He was discovered to be the dance hall murderer. Hutch sat on the floor as he brushed off dust and debris from his clothes. Starsky sat a mere six feet away and brushed off the sleeve of his jacket. The partners instinctively looked toward each other and assessed they were okay, but neither of them moved. The tension was there, as both men usually would have rushed to one another, but not tonight.

Starsky's expression was unreadable to Hutch, except for his eyes. They were the saddest eyes he had seen since, Terry Roberts's death. The woman he thought was the 'one' for his partner. George Prudholm horrifically murdered her as part of revenge. He blamed Starsky for the death of his son Gary killed in prison.

The large ballroom echoed with chaos from the rush of police officers. They diligently questioned the witnesses. Starsky rose to his feet stiffly. He stood briefly and walked away from Hutch. He held the inner turmoil of wanting to check on his partner, but he was too angry and hurt. Starsky had contemplated ending the pain when he caught the grenade ejected from Joey Webster's clutches during his delusional meltdown. The desperate desire to put distance between he and Hutch canceled the fleeting scary thought; he walked away.

Hutch walked toward his partner; the need to speak with him caused him severe anxiety, not to mention a migraine. Their superior, Captain Dobey greeted them. His tie was undone and crooked, his hands shuffled in the gray suit pockets.

He addressed his men. "I see you have things wrapped up? It's about time. Good job." The voice of command bit the amplified chaos.

Starsky glanced and noticed Hutch a few feet directly behind him. His posture stiffened as he turned his head to look at the table, door, anywhere but his partner. The brunet played with a sliver of wood that remained on his sleeve. "Kira has Joey covered…in more than one way." The last part held a note of sarcasm; his tone was sharp. "The guy is a shrink's dream or a nightmare, the aftermath of Nam." He dropped the sliver; his tone embraced empathy and sadness. He played with his fingertips; he felt his partner invade his personal space.

"Good catch on the grenade, Starsk! For a second there I thought you were a goner." Hutch placed his hands in his long black coat pockets and lifted his shoulders as though he were cold. He used the calmed tone reserved only for his partner. Captain Dobey sensed that things were strained, and still not fixed between his best detective team. Starsky never made eye contact with his Captain or Hutch. He cleared his throat. His shoulders slumped and he awkwardly moved from side to side nervously.

"You okay?" Starsky glanced briefly, the question soft-spoken, mumbled for lack of effort.

"Yeah! Are you?" Hutch responded, surprised he was acknowledged.

The brunet leaned his head from right to left as though working out a kink in his neck. He shrugged his shoulders. "Just terrific." The tone was far from convincing and drawn out.

"Let's wrap this up!" Captain Dobey barked the order as he surveyed the area like a hawk.

Hutch attempted to enclose his presence upon his partner just a little more, but Starsky would not allow the usual comfort or connection. He knew Hutch was not injured and needed to get as far away as possible. "We have some reports to file. I'll leave the report on your desk, Hutch." The brunet glanced over to his partner briefly, and then walked away. He did not allow time for a response or action from the blond-haired detective.

Hutch's shoulders dropped with disappointment. He tilted his head and sighed deeply. His gaze caught a glimpse of Kira comforting Joey; she ignored Starsky's efforts to protect her, his stomach turned. He slept with Kira and possibly destroyed his friendship and partnership. The events like a floodgate, poured through his subconscious, which burdened him with a hundred pounds of guilt. "You are a real asshole, Hutchinson." He spoke to himself; his voice laced with anger.

Captain Dobey watched as Starsky walked away with sunken shoulders. The usual confident swagger from the brunet resigned to a wounded defeated strut. "I don't know all the details of what went down between you two. I know enough to assess that this could pose potential danger in judgment or cost someone their life." He raised his eyebrows and sighed deeply. "Do I need to reassign you with a new partner, Hutch?" The Captain crossed his arms and lowered his head. The question unsettled him, but not as much as the blond man that stood before him.

Hutch's expression was solemn; he watched his partner walk away. He wished the sad, hurt, and lost figure he called a best friend would turn around and come back. He looked at the sizeable unhappy man in front of him; removed his black flap cap, then dusted it. "I screwed up, Captain." Hutch looked toward the exit; his partner was long gone. "I don't want another partner. I just want the one I have or…had." He turned his head side to side with disgust.

The problem was he did not know if Starsky still wanted him as a partner. That crushed his heart. A void was building that only one person could fill and he just walked away. The Captain sighed heavily upon the distressed response.

Kira approached and gently touched the distraught blond's arm. Hutch stepped away from her; she sensed that she was not welcome. "Are you okay, Hutch?" She batted her eyelashes. Skillfully, the blonde-haired woman attempted to lock her smoldering eyes onto his like a Venus-fly-trap.

Hutch lifted his shoulders and cleared his throat. He refused to make eye contact. "Fine! You seem unscathed. Thanks to my, partner." He snapped.

She smiled and reached to touch him again, he turned to his Captain and disregarded her. "I'll see if Madam Buvay is available so we can get out of here." He walked away ignoring Kira.

She puckered her lips nervously and scraped her top teeth over her bottom lip. "Where's, David?" She looked around anxiously.

The Captain bowed his head and looked at the gorgeous blonde blue-eyed woman before him. His eyes were focused. "He left to file the report. Why don't you get what you can for a statement from, Joey?" The Captain turned to leave then hesitated from his departure. He looked back at Kira. "Good job. Let this be a reminder. You have a job to complete. I expect it done professionally and without personal interference." Kira stood at attention startled by her superior's tone. She composed herself accordingly, and acknowledged the Captain's request with a nod.

Sssssshhhhhhhhssssssssss

Hutch had arrived at Bay City PD and entered the office; his mood was somber. The squad room was quiet, housed only with the evening staff. With a casual glance he looked around, his partner was nowhere in sight. He walked over to the coffee maker, poured a cup, and slowly made his way to his seat. He flung the flap cap off his head and onto his desk. Something caught his eye. A file folder sat in the center of his work area. He opened the file folder and saw a neatly typed report with Starsky's signature. The blond took a deep breath, raised his right hand, and rubbed his forehead. "It's neatly typed. It is all there. It reads like an authentic police report instead of a play-by-play romance novel. I have really screwed things up if he's filing a completed accurate report." The exasperation trickled in his voice. Hutch shook his head and closed the folder.

Minnie walked in with a folder that she placed on Starsky's desk. She glanced over and assessed the blond's brooding mood. Minnie was a regular at Bay City PD and a computer specialist. Although plain, she still had a spark about her that caught both men's attention. She placed her right hand on her hip. "You don't look any better than that blue-eyed gorgeous partner of yours."

Hutch was startled. He sat up and cleared his throat. "Is he still here?" His features wore the question before he had asked it.

Minnie walked around the desk. She sat on the edge and smiled as she nudged his arm. "Nope. He typed up that report and left. No smile, no flirting, not even a wink." She bowed her head, and then played with a button on her uniform. "I couldn't help myself, I read his report. Dark and handsome, knight in shining armor, along with the shiny candle-apple-red muscle car was missing from the report."

Hutch took a deep breath as his shoulders dropped in slow motion. His features appeared worn from uneasiness.

Minnie lightly brushed the back of her hand against his right cheek. "It's Kira, isn't it?" She said with heartfelt concern.

"Yeah, I…ah…I blew it, Minnie. I hurt him." Hutch raised his right hand to his face, rubbed his mustache and blushed.

Minnie folded her arms over her chest then shook her head. She reached up with her right hand pushed her black-rimmed glasses to the bridge of her nose. "The way I see it, honey. She's been playing the both of you all along. She's part of this new age woman with no commitments. Starsky has a big heart and cares for you too much." She shook her head slightly. "The two of you have been through hell and back together." She stood and touched Hutch's shoulder. She leaned in toward him. "Go after him and don't give up! Hey, a PB and J sandwich ain't complete without the jam, handsome." She released her hold and walked away.

Hutch looked across at Starsky's empty chair and whispered to himself. His head slightly tilted. "You are a jerk, Hutchinson. What were you thinking?" He sighed heavily and opened the folder, and briefly glanced at the report, then added his signature. He brought the folder to the Captain's office. As he dropped the folder, he noticed a white envelope with Captain Dobey's name written on it. His heart began to pound. He felt his knees weaken. He recognized the handwriting; his partner's, and next to it was his badge fold, holster, and gun.

Hutch closed the door. He took a deep breath. Long trembling fingers gently grasped the white unsealed envelope. Hutch knew he was walking on thin ice, but he needed to validate what he already knew. He slowly, with jittery fingers retrieved the white piece of paper from the envelope, then unfolded it. The creases on his forehead deepened as he read it out loud.

"I, David Michael Starsky, regretfully give notice of my resignation effective immediately." Hutch sat in the chair behind him. The sound of leather crinkled. The air from the cushion hissed with a thud as he landed. He felt as though someone just sucker punched him in the gut. His face paled rapidly. The stunned look softened his features to that of a boy who fell off his bicycle and scraped his knee. He sat and looked at Starsky's gun and badge as he held the letter. He felt numb, sick and suddenly an overwhelming sense of loss. "What have I done? How did we get here, Starsk?" Reality devastated him as he closed his eyes then sighed.

Moments had passed; he opened his eyes and blinked several times. Sadness melted from his features. A burst of determination clashed and churned within him. He sat up, placed the letter in the envelope, and shoved it into his coat pocket. He stood abruptly, grabbed Starsky's badge, and holstered gun. The sound of the leather crackled in his grip as he held it. His eyes were focused. His jaw was rigid. His lips pressed together. He shoved the holstered gun and badge in his coat pocket. "You're not doing this, Starsky! Minnie is right! We have been through too much, Buddy. I'm going to fix this, even if I have to handcuff you to a chair."

Hutch barreled out of the Captain's office with a look of a man on a mission. He grabbed his flap cap from his desk and bolted through the double doors. Kira stood and watched as the tall blond walked by her swiftly. The breeze he created caused her hair to move. She stood there with her hand out and mouth open, he never acknowledged her.

Hhhhhhhssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh

It was midnight; Hutch had arrived at his partner's place and noticed that the Torino was there, but no lights on in the apartment. The blond parked behind the red car, and bolted out of his vehicle. His long legs took two steps at a time. He knocked. There was no reply. Bowing his head, he nudged the door with his forehead. "Starsk, let me in, please?" He retrieved a key from his pants pocket, opened the door, and entered. "We are going to talk. If you want me to leave, you are going to have to throw me out. Do you hear me?" He flipped the light switch and looked around then made his way to the bedroom. There was no sign of his partner.

His eyes scanned the room and walked into the living room. He stopped near the coffee table and noticed a large green duffle bag. Pertinent items were missing from the bookcase shelves; one in particular was a picture of the two of them. Hutch walked over to the bookcase and shelving unit. He noticed two boxes on the floor with items neatly stacked. On top was a picture of the two of them standing side by side in front of the Torino. Hutch stood there and raised his right hand to his face; he sighed heavily then raised the other hand and punched the shelving unit in frustration. "Where the hell are you, Starsky?"

Hutch ran to the door then locked it. He rushed back to his car and started it. He sat deep in thought. Where had his partner gone without his car? Visions ran through his mind rapidly of his partner. Starsky's eyes held a heart wrenching sadness. The same sad eyes he briefly encountered on the dance hall floor. The same sad eyes when his partner stood at Kira's entryway holding a gift for her. "While I stood in front of her bedroom door and tucked my shirt in my pants." His eyes closed briefly. The radio came alive and rattled him from his thoughts.

"Control to Zebra three."

Hutch reached for the microphone. "Zebra three, over." Hutch took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"Zebra three, see the man called Huggy at The Pits. He indicated it was urgent. Something about…come get the turkey."

Hutch's eyes widened, he responded abruptly.

"Roger, Zebra three in route." Hutch dropped the microphone and put the car in gear. The tires spun from the battered heap of a vehicle.

Sssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhsssssssssss

At The Pits, the small bar chimed with music and patrons. Huggy stood in the doorway as he waited for Hutch. The long-time friend paced anxiously. He glanced at Starsky who was charged with liquor and ready for trouble. The trace of anxiety encompassed the excited bar owner.

The brunet sat at the bar on a stool and played with a shot glass that sat next to a glass of beer. He looked over at the two men who were near the pool table. They were arguing. The massive-sized man named Noni, who estimated a weight of two hundred twenty-five pounds, bald and stood six feet two inches. He grabbed the smaller man, one hundred eight pounds, dirty blond and stood about five feet six inches with a mustache; his name was Chuckles.

"You owe me fifty bucks, Chuckles." Noni's voice carried throughout the bar. He pushed Chuckles, who landed on the floor near Starsky's stool. Starsky took a deep breath and turned on his stool. He looked at the smaller man. The brunet struggled to keep his balance. "You okay, pal?" The words were slightly slurred.

Chuckles gathered himself and staggered back to his feet. "Yeah, mind your own business!"

Starsky eased himself off the stool and adjusted his tan suede jacket. He scrunched his lips together then raised his eyebrows and pointed. "Ya see, you and the goon over there made it my business when ya invaded my space." He delivered his message in an authentic New York accent caramelized with alcohol, as he swayed.

Noni looked at Starsky with his fist clenched. "Who are you calling a goon, little man?" The enormous man broadened his shoulders as he pointed with finger. His hand was the size of a baseball catcher's mitt.

Huggy saw the spark in Starsky's eyes filled with challenge. He threw his hands up, clasped them together. He appeared as though he were praying. "Curly this ain't no time to be taking on Mount Everest!" He paced, his hands placed on his hips.

"I said who are you calling a goon?" The large man looked at the unstable dark-haired man and snickered.

Starsky grinned sheepishly. His eyes were wild. "You…ya moron!"

Chuckles assessed the situation and darted for the exit; he never looked back as he bumped into Huggy, almost knocking him to the floor.

"Moron…huh?" The large man looked at Starsky and walked toward him.

"You heard me…moron!" Starsky walked toward the large man. His usual swagger mixed with a drunken weave.

Noni grabbed a chair and swung it. Starsky ducked just in time, and plowed forward with his head into the large man's chest. Although half the giant's size, he pushed him against the pool table causing him to fall back. Long rugged legs kicked and launched Starsky backward. Noni pushed himself off the pool table. He grabbed another chair, swung and struck the brunet on the upper part of his body, which knocked him down. Starsky scrambled to recover as Noni grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him to his feet like a rag doll. The gorilla of a man pulled his arm back and punched the curly-haired drunk man on the jaw. The disorientated brunet fell to the floor face first.

Hutch pulled up, the car came to a screeching halt. Huggy exited the bar flailing his arms around and pointed at the door as Hutch ejected from the car. "He's got one mean giant rearrangin' his face!"

Hutch ran into the bar and stopped abruptly when he saw King Kong holding a chair readied to hit the semi-conscious man on the floor, his partner. Hutch pulled his gun from his holster, the gun steady in his right hand; his eyes drilled the tower of a man. "Police! Put the chair down. Now!" The request was loud and direct. The man looked at him. Starsky was dazed, and blood poured down the side of his face. "Put the damn chair down. I'm not going to tell you again." Hutch pulled his badge; his eyes focused and wild.

Noni dropped the chair and stared at Hutch. Huggy ran to the bar, grabbed a clean towel, and went over to Starsky, who was now sitting up with his eyes closed. Huggy administered first aid.

Hutch motioned with his gun for the man to move away from his injured partner. "I suggest you walk out of here before I charge you with assault on a police officer!"

The man looked at Starsky sighed and headed for the door. "I didn't know he was a cop! Honest!"

The remaining startled patrons exited in haste. Huggy helped Starsky up and sat him on the stool at the bar. Starsky was still dazed but most of all drunk and swatted the hands that helped him away. "Will ya quit it? I'm okay, Hug." His eyes quickly met his partner's. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall. What's he doing here?" He pointed to Hutch, who placed his gun back into his holster.

"He's saving your sorry carcass from being killed. He's leaving with you in tow, turkey!" Huggy put the towel with smeared blood over his shoulder and shook his head.

Starsky spun and grabbed his beer and drank it down in one swallow. He almost fell off the barstool. A thin black hand supported him. The brunet's eyes rolled back in his head as he scrambled to stay upright. His arms scrambled to find something to grasp. "I'm not goin' with him, we're…we're not friends anymore." Starsky swayed as he grabbed Huggy's arm for support.

"Oh, come on, Starsk." Hutch approached but kept a safe distance. He smirked, but his partner's words hurt.

Starsky's eyes were half closed as he glared at Hutch. "I may be drunk, but not enough to forget what ya did. I'm not goin' with ya! You're mean, cruel and ya don't want me around anymore. Ya made that abivious, ob…vi...ous, whatever. Ya made that perfectly clear!" He raised his left hand and pointed his finger that missed its mark, the tall blond's chest.

The cut over Starsky's eye began to bleed. Huggy dabbed at it with the towel. He let go of the brunet and walked toward the back of the bar. The thin barkeeper and friend held a look of disappointment and worry. "Hutch is going to take you anywhere but here, comprende?"

"Let me take you home and get you to bed, Buddy." Hutch moved in closer and attempted to touch his partner.

Starsky winced as he pulled away; his eyes were blue slits of alcohol-fueled rage. "Here's a revolution." He frowned. "No, wait…rev...el...ation, Buddy-old-Pal. Ya don't stab ya partner and best friend in the back and get to call him, Buddy." He raised his hand and pointed at his heart. "Ya broke it in half, ripped to shreds." He stood and felt the world begin to spin and fell forward into Hutch's arms.

Hutch grunted and shifted his drunken partner to get a better grip as he gasped. "Thanks, Hug! I owe you!"

Huggy leaned his elbows on the bar and smirked. "I'll collect my man. Work things out with Curly, will ya?"

Hutch dragged his partner toward the exit. His exterior displayed calm and cool. The interior housed a world of panic and anxiety. A world turned upside down. In his arms, he held the man that meant past, present, and god willing the future.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhsssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh

Hutch pulled the battered clunking car up in front of his apartment, long gone was the waterside bungalow. Starsky hunched over in the passenger seat. Hutch sat with his head down and glanced at the dark head of curls that leaned against his arm. He smiled and thought how it felt nice to have his friend next to him. A temporary moment of comfort, the blond bowed his head and sighed. "The way you looked at me, your sad eyes, Starsk. I keep seeing your sad eyes. What have I done to you?" Hutch shuffled and exited the car. He made it around and opened the passenger door. Cautiously, he attempted to arouse his partner conscious, who sat slumped on the car seat of the Galaxie.

Starsky groaned and swatted at Hutch, and dismissed him as though he were a fly. His eyes were slits of shiny blue orbs.

"Hey Starsk, let's get you to bed." His voice was soft in deliverance as he tugged on his partner's arm. He pulled him to an upright position.

"Hmmm…oh, it's you. Am I home? The drunken brunet expressed the tone of sarcasm with a prominent slur.

"Yeah, it's me. Come on." Hutch grabbed his arm and pulled them followed with a grunt. Starsky opened his eyes slightly and pushed Hutch away. He clumsily exited the car.

"This is not home, Utchinson." He staggered sideways and pointed. "What did I ever do to you…huh? I could have you arrested for kidnapping! I- could arrest ya. I'm a cop ya know…course ya know." Starsky's eyes rolled back into his head as though he were going to pass out. Hutch stood next to him and steadied him with his hands in an attempt to keep the man upright.

"Well, you are correct it's not home. The kidnapping and arrest will have to wait until you are sober. Let's go, Bud, huh…Starsky!" Hutch felt he did not have the right to call his partner what had come so natural. He did not deserve the privilege. The blond guided and supported his tipsy partner.

Starsky attempted to raise his leg to take his first step into the doorway of the building. He reached for the stair railing and stumbled back onto his partner. "Oops, we got a problem, utch." He squinted and wobbled. "Which step? There's two, now three!" The head of curls leaned back against the blond's shoulder. He giggled and snorted uncontrollably.

Hutch chuckled, pushed his partner, placed his hand on his back, and guided. "Try the one in the middle, Starsk!" Hutch shook his head and smiled at the thought of his partner's boyish demeanor. How he had missed that the last few weeks, perhaps much longer than that, the past year. A firm hand was placed on his partner's back as they climbed the long stairway and approached the apartment door. He secured his inebriated friend against the wall with one hand as he retrieved his key with the other. Gently he kicked the door open, and Starsky stumbled in and headed directly to the couch. Hutch followed in tow and made sure his friend landed on the couch and not the floor.

Starsky slumped onto the couch; he sat with head back looking at the ceiling. He was startled when Hutch removed his Adidas shoes and assisted him in removing his jacket. The tall blond took the task then removed his partner's belt, then pulled his shirt out of his pants for comfort.

"Ya need to paint the ceiling. Did ya know there's a picture of Jesus up there?" Starsky blinked, stared with his mouth open. "There's a dolphin…" He pointed.

"I'll get right on that, Starsk. What next, I suppose you see, Raquel Welch?" Hutch looked up and chuckled. He squinted.

Starsky closed his eyes, reached for his left eyebrow, and cringed. "What happened to my face? Can you tell me what happen to my face…huh?" The words were drawn, and slurry; Hutch gathered the clothing he had retrieved from his partner. He stood and assessed the man on the couch and shook his head. "Goliath versus David, only Goliath won!" He hissed with a trace of anger.

Starsky snorted and chuckled; he kicked his feet and rubbed his chest. "Oh yeah, I had that goon or was it moron…one of those! Ya should have seen me. Raquel, would a' really liked it." He continued to chuckle. The laughter was short lived when his face crinkled with pain.

Hutch walked toward the closet, placed Starsky's shoes, and hung his jacket. As he carefully hung the coat onto a hanger, a piece of paper fell from the jacket pocket onto the floor. He picked up the paper that was folded neatly in four. Cautiously, he opened and saw his name written on the face. Hutch pushed it into his pants pocket. He removed his long black coat and retrieved Starsky's badge, holstered gun, and envelope from the large pocket and placed it on the shelf. Hutch leaned against the door and sighed, then bowed his head. He removed the cap and put it on the shelf. He looked over at his friend who sat on the couch and thought to himself. "I've got to make this right!"

Hutch shook the thoughts away; it was back to the task-at-hand. He went to the bathroom to retrieve antiseptic and gauze with a suture-style bandage and walked over to his partner. The blond sat on the coffee table in front of his friend. He lightly reached with face cloth in hand and patted the cut over his partner's eyes; Starsky pushed his hand away. "Oh, no ya not! Think ya gonna comfort me cause ya feel guilty." The brunet's eyes locked on the blond as he grumbled. "I don't need your White Knight routine." Starsky's mouth formed a crooked childish pout.

Hutch abruptly pulled his arms back. A frown formed on his face. "It's bleeding; let me fix it. Okay? Do you want it to scar?" Hutch, although hurt, remained calm and did not raise his voice. Starsky mumbled something inaudible and looked at Hutch. There once again blue glassy orbs of sadness, those sad eyes of torment drilled holes in his heart.

"A scar? Match the ones on my heart!" Starsky replied sharply. His eyes although clouded with the affects of alcohol bored holes through the devastated blond counterpart before him.

Hutch cringed at the response and continued to do his nursing duty. He cleaned then put antiseptic and carefully placed the bandage on the cut. The irritated patient looked at him and back at his hands that sat on his chest.

"Was she worth it?" The brunet sighed. He raised his eyebrows and twitched his nose as if it itched.

Hutch sat and placed the remains of first-aid products on the coffee table next to him. He paused and looked at his friend. His heart hurt along with guilt. "We'll talk, but not when you are like this Buddy…huh…Starsk." Hutch was startled. He again began to call his partner what came so spontaneously natural.

"Buddy! It's funny comin' from you. B-u-d-d-y!" Starsky sighed, grinned with a snorted chuckle.

Hutch placed his elbows on his knees, put his hands together, and bowed his head. He rubbed his lips back and forth against each other and looked up to meet his partner's gaze. "I deserve it, Starsk. Give it your best shot." Hutch closed his eyes, bowed his head. He raised his eyes and waited.

Starsky rubbed his face and looked at Hutch, not angrily but more like a child who had his ice cream cone taken away. "You've been on a black horse for some time, Ken. You were in a foul mood and a real jerk!" His voice was calm. "I punched ya, I did right in the gut, remember? Ya just wanted to straighten things out, clear up the problem." He never called his partner Ken; this caught Hutch's attention.

"Rooms spinnin', I'm gonna be sick!" Starsky sat up abruptly. The color blanched from his face as he attempted to stand and fell back.

"Oh god! Let's get you in the bathroom, Starsk. Come on, not on my floor, please?" Hutch pleaded. Without hesitation, he grabbed his partner around the waist and guided him to the bathroom.

Starsky was in no condition to fight him. His face glistened with sweat, and he turned white as a ghost. He allowed his partner to usher him to the bathroom. The brunet collapsed onto his knees, plunged his head into the toilet bowl, and vomited violently. Hutch knelt next to him, rubbed his back, and cringed. Starsky came up for air, his face covered with moisture and eyes reddened. "Get out Hutch; I don't want your pity!" His voice snapped between breaths; Hutch pulled his hand away but stayed. The once welcomed touch is banned and not welcomed.

"Let me get you a towel." Hutch reached above for a face cloth and placed it under the faucet. He rang the towel out and put it on the back of his partner's neck. Starsky continued to purge the remains of his stomach fiercely. His body recoiled with every launch of vomit. Hutch gently touched the brunet's head with his thumb and pulled the wet curls away from his face. This action sent his partner into a fit of rage.

"Don't! Just don't! Now get out!" The order came loud and clear between gasps of air.

Hutch removed the cloth and placed it onto the vanity. He stood; his face clouded with rejection and exited the bathroom. His partner's volatile dismissal delivered a punch to the gut. That he could handle, but he could not ignore the gaping hole that was once his heart. He left the door partially open and walked to the kitchen table. His ordinarily tall frame seemed short from the drooped shoulders and bowed head. He pulled a chair and sat, his frame still slumped. The purging continued. It brought the reality of pain his friend endured. The kind of pain he felt he needed to drown in beer and alcohol. Hutch reached into his pocket and pulled the note that fell out of Starsky's jacket. He thought about the question his partner had asked. "Was she worth it?" Hutch held the note as his hand trembled. He took a deep breath, opened it, and read it.

"Hutch,

I can't make sense of this whole thing. All these years, am I supposed to forgive and forget the entire thing? When you hurt yourself, you hurt me. You've been doing that for some time now. I know you haven't been yourself. Sometime I felt like you were testing me, and us.

I'm requesting a transfer. I won't work the street the way we are right now. It doesn't matter what happened between us, I couldn't take it if something happened to you. I don't want a new partner. I'm going it alone. I'll be transferring to New York. Ma will be surprised. It hurts too much right now to see you and not be us. I'm probably not making much sense; nothing is making sense. I trusted you. What happened to us?

Respect my wishes, Starsk."

Hutch closed his eyes; he bit his lower lip. He took a deep quivering breath, folded the paper, and shoved it back into his pocket. The note was short but sweet, but it cut like a knife through his heart. 'It hurts too much right now to see you and not be us,' stated the impacted pain he had inflicted on his partner and best friend. All for some woman who played the same game they have played so many times. Was this payback from past karma? Hutch wiped the corners of his eyes and took a deep breath. He sensed someone was behind him. He turned to see Starsky, who leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. His hair slightly disheveled, his face pale, but his gaze was focused.

"Ya found my note?" His voice was hoarse.

Hutch turned away. He could not face his partner. "Fell out of your coat pocket. It had my name on it." He rubbed his face with his right hand. His fingers found the deep crease at the bridge of his nose. "Y-you don't have to do this." The soft voice quivered.

Starsky inhaled from his nose, his lips pursed. He made his way toward the closet and bent over to retrieve his shoes. He fell forward and braced himself against the wall with his left hand.

Hutch was startled, took action, and dashed off the chair toward his partner panic-stricken. "Where the hell do you think you're going? For god sakes, Starsky!" The tone was a little harsher than he intended.

Starsky leaned against the closet door. "Home, anywhere but here…I'll call a cab." He closed his eyes momentarily. "You're right. I don't have to do this. I need to do this!" He braced himself and closed his eyes once again.

Hutch kicked the shoes to the corner near the closet; he had one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his chin. "You're in no condition to go anywhere. No argument!" The determined blue gaze added the punctuation needed to deter the brunet from leaving. The pale and green hue that covered Starsky's face gave a response without words. He was far too sick to argue.

"I'll get you some water and aspirin." Hutch turned toward the kitchen and retrieved the items.

Starsky hesitated, then walked over and sat on the arm of the couch. He attempted to keep his balance as he leaned slightly. A large hand appeared with two aspirin another held a glass of water. The brunet clumsily accepted them. He popped the pills into his mouth and drank the water, then gave the glass back to Hutch. The glass was placed on the coffee table as the blond sat; he put his elbows on his knees with his hands covering his face and rubbed. "I'm sorry, Starsk. I'm so damn, sorry!" The look of loss plagued his features. He took a deep breath. The words were laced with guilt and pain, most of all remorse.

Starsky crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Sorry ya did it, or sorry you got caught?" His eyes focused on the blond, blushing man before him. Hutch bowed his head in embarrassment. Almost losing his balance, he sighed. "Don't matter. We've been drifting apart, shuttin' each other out for some reason or another for some time now." Starsky spoke softly; he looked at the floor, burped and hiccupped. His head wobbled with a childlike demeanor. The brunet's eyes rose to meet the other set of blue eyes before him. "You've been mean, moody and cruel at times, Hutch. Not just to me. You've been doin' it to yourself too." The boyish features faded. The sad eyes appeared once again, the hurt that emanated pierced the blond man's heart before him.

"You're right!" Hutch rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

"Was she worth it?" Starsky asked again trailed with anger. He unfolded his arms and almost fell off the arm of the couch. He decided to ease himself onto the sofa in front of Hutch. He sat as his hands reached and played with the hem of his shirt; his strained blue eyes slowly rose to meet his partners.

Hutch looked at him as frustration radiated from within him. His jaw tightened. He looked at Starsky, and then took a deep breath. He responded. "Do you want a play-by-play?" Hutch rubbed his face and extended his hands ahead of him, his elbows propped on his knees. "At the time I thought she was, Starsk. Before you told me you loved her…then…then!" He noticed his partner disengaged and casually played with his shirt. His lips pursed.

"I tell ya I love her and ya sleep with her." A restless agitation set in his features. "Sorry if I'm not okay with that." Starsky raised his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. His tone was slightly elevated and exposed a raw open wound in its deliverance.

There it was once again, focused on him was the brunet's sad eyes. The hurt he had caused. Hutch stood and paced. His fists clenched. "You're right; I've been a total jerk." His fists so tight the knuckles appeared white.

"You've certainly haven't been a shaft of sunlight! Ya been more like the cloud of doom and gloom." Starsky snapped and pulled his chin inward and took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose to gain control.

Hutch stopped suddenly then took a deep breath, guilt was written all over his face. "I won't deny it." A little setback from the remark, he continued to pace.

Starsky resumed playing with his shirt avoiding eye contact.

"The job stopped meaning something, Starsk. I was feeling the cold hard truth. I didn't feel we were making a difference." Hutch stopped pacing; he leaned on a chair near the table. "There were too many obstacles. We had drifted but always wandered back, connected. Making us the bug in the so-called-toilet and then comes the flush. I was tired of swimming against the current. It became harder and harder." Hutch bowed his head, reached up with his right hand, sighed heavily and ran his hand down the side of the face. "Starsk, you were always there trying to cheer me up and taking my downward spirals. All I did was slam you simply because you were you. Why you put up with me, I don't know!" Hutch pushed himself up from the back of the chair. His shoulder slouched as he walked back to the living room and stopped behind the couch and leaned, placing his hands on the back.

"Then Kira, it began like any other competition with women. I took the challenge and pushed it too far because I didn't like myself anymore, didn't want you to care. I didn't want to care." He closed his eyes, turned his head away in embarrassment. "It became too difficult to care and easier to sink into self-loathe. I knew I was doing it, but couldn't stop…maybe didn't want to stop." The statement from the blond exposed his pain. "We had words, and I took it too far. I allowed my alter ego to take over; because I was ticked off that you were right." Hutch walked around the couch and sat on the coffee table in front of his friend. "I screwed up, Starsk." His eyes were vibrant blue pools of regret. They were bright and more focused than they had been in months.

Starsky raised his eyes and took notice; he continued to play with his shirt. Taking a deep breath, he puckered his lips and twitched his lips to the side. He exhaled loudly, lips parted. "That's just terrific. Sounds like a country song, Hutch. Only problem is it's missin' the violins and a happy ending. We can't forget mama gettin' run over by a train." He turned his head side to side. " Ya screwed up! After all these years and all ya got to say is ya screwed up?" Starsky crossed his arms and took a deep breath; he looked up at the ceiling and back at the man that sat before him. "I trusted ya, Hutch. I can't remember ever not trusting ya. Ya hurt me! Ya hurt yourself…us!" His emotions transparent, his speech more precise and held sentiment. The drunken slur no longer present, his jaw tightened, and eyes squinted.

The words cut through Hutch like a blade; he looked into his partner's eyes. Starsky felt his emotions rise; he turned away from the matching pair of blue eyes that pleaded with him. He squeezed his arms tightly against his chest as though he shielded himself from the man before him.

Hutch felt the wall go up. Climbing was an invisible barrier of energy from his partner. He thought to himself, 'Hutchinson, how could you hurt your best friend? This man before you laid it all out on the line for you, just for you. He would die for you.'

Silence hung between them, Hutch put his hands behind his neck and sat back up. "Starsk, she played us like a chess game. If I had known that you were serious about her." He waved his right hand as though to surrender. "I know you told me! Nevertheless, she told me she loved me too, both of us and then made it sound like an offer I couldn't resist. Hell, she wasn't good enough for you. She didn't deserve your love." His eyes didn't waver from the sad man before him. "Starsky, if I could take it all back I would. I never set out to hurt you. I never meant to go there and sleep with her." Hutch ran his hands through his hair.

"She never had any intention in regards to a long-term relationship with either of us. I'm not sure she knows the meaning." Hutch was nervous; the person that sat on the couch wasn't the man he knew a few weeks ago. He could not read him, which ignited fear and dread within him. They could always intuitively connect. All the blond had known for almost nine years is that connection. He missed it and needed it back. His eyes welled up with moisture. He fidgeted. "Sad Eyes…Do you know the song? He sang the words _. "Try to remember the magic that we shared in time your broken heart will mend; I never used you, you knew I cared. I'd hate to see it have to end."_ Hutch's hand trembled; his voice was like silk and poured with angst. He sung the lyrics with heavy heart.

"I'd hate to see it end, Starsk." His voice cracked with emotion.

The man on the couch knew the song, his features solemn and sad. The song was about saying goodbye and the pain and hurt behind it. In Starsky's world, 'a major soapy scene!' A place he was not comfortable. He unfolded his arms, stood quickly, and wobbled a little. His unsteady frame headed for the closet door, grabbed his coat, and slipped his shoes on. He grabbed the doorknob, hesitated briefly turned it and exited.

Hutch's heart sank, he sat and placed his elbows on his knees and put his face into his hands. He sniffed and wiped his face. "You've really screwed things up, Hutchinson!"

hhhhhhhhhhssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh

With his jacket on, Starsky sat outside his partner's apartment door on the landing at the top of the stairs. It felt like hours but only had been fifteen minutes. He leaned his left shoulder against the wall, looking down the long stairway. The floor creaked beyond the door, which meant his partner was pacing.

"What if I fell down these steps and broke my neck? He raised one eyebrow and sighed. "Ah…screw you, Hutchinson. Ya ain't gettin' off that easy." He looked down the steep stairway before him and closed his eyes. His stomach somersaulted. "Fine mess ya got yourself into, Davey. Don't drink and drive…hmm…don't drink and navigate these stairs!" He chuckled briefly, glanced back at the apartment door.

"Suppose I slide down these steps?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Nah…the blond Grinch will hear me. He's probably watching me through the keyhole." He took a deep breath and attempted to get up. The sudden movements caused him to lean forward; he panicked and fell backward onto his back. "Terrific! Oh, my head. Note to self, no more alcohol, goons or morons…and women!"

Hutch was at the coffee table when he heard the noise outside his door. He shortened the distance between him and the door and opened it. There displayed in his glory was his partner on his back, pale and disoriented.

"I should've worked on the landing!" Starsky closed his eyes and snorted.

Hutch grinned and breathed a sigh of relief as he reached down and assisted his friend to his feet. Starsky was still dazed; Hutch escorted him back to the couch and repeated the chore of the removal of the shoes and jacket.

Hutch retrieved a navy blue T-shirt and matching sweatpants and guided the intoxicated man to the bathroom for a shower. The blond felt confident his partner was safe, went, and made a pot of coffee. He disappeared into his bedroom and moments later exited wearing his orange robe. The coffee brewed as he extracted a blanket and pillow from the closet and fixed the couch for its future occupant.

Starsky emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and wild, but more presentable. Hutch poured two cups of coffee and placed them on the kitchen table. He sat and slid one to an open chair next to him. Starsky sighed and walked over and sat.

Both men had a veil of defeat on their faces and sat in silence. Hutch's mind raced, he wanted so much for everything to be back to normal or at least before his dark mood became an issue. He knew he needed to make one last attempt at rectifying the mess he created. He sipped his coffee, rubbed his forehead with his right hand. "I um…huh, Starsk? I…I need to say just a few more things. Please don't interrupt me?" His eyes rose from his coffee cup to meet his partners.

Starsky met his gaze and sat back in the chair; his lips were pinched to form a thin line. "Listen, Hutch!"

Hutch sat up, raised his hand, and pointed his finger. The Hutchinson 'don't mess with me look' exhibited. "What part of don't interrupt me don't you understand?" He retracted his finger.

Starsky shrugged his shoulders with mouth opened, then closed it to form a frown.

"You always have to have the last word." Hutch snapped sarcastically. The frazzled blond adjusted his robe with trembling hands. He grasped the coffee cup.

"I can't make excuses for what I did because there are none. We've been friends since the academy, and then we became partners. I have to tell you, Starsky. It has been more than I could ever have imagined. A hell of a ride." His hands trembled causing the coffee to spill onto the table. "You're my family, Buddy. You filled that void." Hutch's shoulders dropped, his head tilted. "I don't know maybe I was testing you…us." He blinked and tried to calm himself by staring at the coffee cup before him.

"When I saw you at Kira's, the hurt in your eyes it all came rushing back to me. The past year of self-loathing, the careless, cruel-hearted jerk melted away right at the moment. The dark cloud lifted." He raised his eyes and looked at the still form before him. "Don't hate me, Starsk?" His voice cracked from the stress of pent-up emotions.

The room remained silent. Starsky slid himself up in the chair. There was no formal expression as he looked at the turmoil of guilt and pain on the blond's face. He looked back at the unconsumed coffee before him and sighed very heavily as a spark emanated from his eyes. "I don't hate ya, never could." Starsky stood and brought his coffee cup over to the kitchen and took a sip; his face cringed as he placed the cup in the sink. "Servin' coffee like this, now that's unforgivable." He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

Hutch was stunned by the insult.

"We both take for granted the thing we do that is you and me." Starsky formed a half smile; his left hand scratched his right arm.

Hutch spoke without hesitation. "Me and thee!" He finished what he knew his partner would say.

"Yeah! I don't know if I loved, Kira. Since Terry, it's not the same, or maybe I'm just too scared to love again." Starsky glanced up to meet his partners stare. "Maybe you did me a favor…us a favor?" The sincerity was present in his voice.

The loss of Terry Roberts devastated him deeply. The love of his life was taken too soon by a crazed individual on a vendetta against him. Hutch closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He also loved Terry.

Starsky's eyes watered. "See…I'm just as much to blame in all this. I figured you'd snap out of it sooner or later; you do that. I'm sorry I let it get this far, Hutch. We both got too careless. Maybe we thought ourselves invincible." He raised his left hand and rubbed his thumb over his lips. "We operate with trust, gotta have it, or it won't work." Starsky's voice strained with remorse and guilt.

Hutch was stunned. He looked at his partner, his forehead wrinkled and his mouth open. "What? No…this isn't your fault!"

Starsky raised his left hand up to indicate 'I'm not finished,' his eyes appeared softer. "What matters to me, Hutch, always has from day one…you and me. I don't want to do this without you. You're my best friend, my partner." He turned his head, his chin wrinkled and sighed. "Nicky may be my blood brother, but you are my brother. I've always trusted ya, still do."

Hutch stood and turned to look at his partner who looked exhausted. The focused indigo blue eyes that displayed sadness and hurt before were null and voided. A sense of relief crept through the blond's body. He walked over and reached out to touch Starsky, but hesitated. The brunet reached out and pulled his partner into an embrace; he grabbed a handful of the orange robe and held him tight, tears threatened. Returning the embrace, Hutch whispered with breathy sobs and tears. "I'm sorry, Starsk!"

"Come on, Blondie." Starsky's face blanched, his knees weakened almost collapsing. Hutch instinctually reacted and assisted his partner over to the couch. Once his friend had settled, he sat next to him. He needed to be near him, the closeness felt like home.

"Sorry, heads feelin' bad." Starsky smirked, touched his head and grumbled.

Hutch wiped his face using both his hands and took a much-needed breath of relief. "Yeah, Goliath did a number on you. Oh and the booze!" The blond sounded less stressed and trickled a tone of humor.

Starsky scrunched his face in slight pain. He reached over and put his hand on Hutch's arm, his hand grasped tightly and looked at him. "Apology accepted, only if ya accept mine, Hutch." The hold on his partner's arm was firm.

Hutch wide-eyed, nodded. "Apology accepted, Buddy."

Starsky's grin disappeared, his face stern and eyes pierced. "Don't hurt yourself like that or me again, kay?"

Hutch nodded and closed his eyes in relief.

Starsky's face rapidly expressed panic; he glared at Hutch. "We got a problem; I left Dobey a letter, my gun, my badge!"

Hutch smiled and chuckled, he stood and walked over to the closet and pulled the letter, badge along with the gun and holster. He held them for a moment, then walked back over to the coffee table and placed them gently.

Starsky was stunned and looked at the items on the coffee table. "You took them?" His face displayed shock as he watched his partner return to the spot next to him on the couch.

Hutch bowed his head and looked back at his partner. "I saw them on Dobey's desk, took a chance…no one knows." He glowed. "Never mess with a man's partner, partner!"

Starsky released the breath he'd been holding, relieved. A chuckle came from the blond, which followed with a giggle and snort from the other. Their laughter escalated to both men laughed uncontrollably.

ssssssssshhhhhhhhhhssssssssssssss

The following morning, both men were still asleep on the couch. Hutch opened his eyes and looked around; a smile came across his face when he saw his partner curled at the other end of the sofa.

Hutch slowly hoisted himself to his feet; he felt aches and pain through his body. He stood by the coffee table, stretched and looked down at Starsky's badge and holstered gun. He reached down and picked up the badge fold. The leather crackled between his fingers. He opened it and ran his fingers over the shiny silver numbers and lettering, unaware that his partner watched him.

"You okay?" The voice was slightly raspy but held a tone of concern.

"Yup, this means more to me now than ever." Hutch placed the badge back on the coffee table and smiled. He rubbed his mustache and stretched, glanced at a lopsided grin that emanated from his dark-haired partner. "Breakfast, Gordo?" He walked toward the kitchen.

Starsky slowly stood and grabbed his head. "Oh god, did you get the license number of the truck that hit me?"

As he held the scoop to measure the coffee, Hutch shook his head. Starsky walked to the table, sat, and stretched. He glanced and noticed his partner with his back against the counter deep in thought.

The brunet smirked. "Hutch!"

Stunned the blond turned to meet his partner's gaze.

"Welcome back, Blintz!" Starsky cringed at the sound of his voice, and he grabbed his head.

Hutch smiled, rubbed his mustache. "It's good to be back, Starsk!"

Starsky yawned and sighed. "What do we do about, Kira?"

Hutch approached with two cups of coffee and placed one in front of his partner. He was deep in thought. "I'm done with her, Starsk."

Starsky nodded and snickered. "Makes two of us!"

Their conversation was interrupted by the phone. Hutch reached for the phone near the table. "Hello!" His expression displayed uneasiness. He glanced at his partner. "I don't think that this is a good idea, Kira." His shoulders were rigid. He looked at his partner again. "Yeah, he's here with me."

Starsky nodded as though he knew what Kira had said.

"Yeah, we'll meet you at the Pits at 9 pm." Hutch placed the handset in the cradle and sighed.

"We can play this game, Hutch. Let's give the lady what she thinks she wants." Starsky took a sip of his coffee and grinned, exhibiting a playful expression.

"Listen Starsk; don't get me wrong, you know I love you, but not that way! Are you serious?" Hutch's face flushed.

Starsky laughed and nudged him with his elbow. "Oh come on, Blintz? I saw ya checkin' me out." He winked mischievously.

Hutch chuckled rubbed the side of his face and blushed. "Secret's out!"

Starsky raised his coffee cup and saluted as Hutch raised his. "Who do we trust, partner?"

Hutch grinned from ear to ear. "As always, us!"

"Let's live each day like we don't have tomorrow!" They connected the two cups. Starsky smiled, the words he spoke struck Hutch deeply. A sudden flare of panic overtook him. He couldn't take his eyes off his partner; he felt as though he would disappear.

Starsky caught the momentary panic that overshadowed his partner. "Hey, you okay?"

Hutch bit his lip and sighed heavily, he smirked with an edge of fear trickling up his spine. "When is the bottom going to fall out? Not to be soapy, but I honestly don't know what I would do if..." The fear dangled with each word.

The brunet looked into his coffee cup turned his head slightly. "Yeah, no if…for what it's worth I wouldn't have wanted to do any of this with anyone else." He turned to look at his coffee cup. "Even though ya drive a crummy car." Humor cut the tension as both men chuckled.

hhhhhhhhhsssssssssssshhhhhhhhhh

They met Kira at the Pits. They presented a united front, walked away from her arms over each other's shoulders. Hutch was back to his old self and enjoyed his partner's company. He had a new charge on his work and life.

Hutch sat at his desk and looked over at his partner who had a pencil over one ear, a donut in one hand and coffee in the other. He never realized how much he truly enjoyed the man that sat across from him. Never would he take that for granted again. Someone once asked him, 'what is a Starsky?' Hutch thought, 'A best friend, one hell of a partner, the extension of my soul.'

Their connection was stronger than ever. Starsky embraced their friendship and partnership as though nothing had ever happened. The only issue was that Hutch couldn't shake the horrible feeling of 'when was the bottom going to fall out?'

Hutch's gut didn't lie only a few weeks later deep in thought his mind like a slide projector. It displayed everything that had occurred over the past few months and year. He sat in front of a glass window; he saw his partner and best friend lying in a hospital bed with tubes and monitors. An oxygen tube stood like a tower from his mouth. Detective David Michael Starsky, his partner, was gunned down in the Bay City PD parking lot. At the direct request of James Gunther in revenge for their infiltration into his illegal business ties. The words, 'he suffered massive damage…a body can only withstand…' left the blond's lips. Hutch was in shock. Huggy and Captain Dobey stood behind him.

"Starsky's going to die." The words came from the stunned blond detective. Almost catatonic, he glared through the window. A memory lingered, he wondered if somehow Starsky had a premonition when he said, "Let's live each day like we don't' have tomorrow!" Hutch sat there and asked, "What if?"

The song played in Hutch's head as he focused on the figure in the bed. "Sad eyes, turn the other way, I don't want to see you cry, sad eyes, you knew there'd come a day, when we would have to say 'goodbye'." Swallowing, he took a deep breath, as tears formed. "This is not goodbye!" He whispered softly, and then raised his hand. Long trembling finger delicately pressed against the glass. "This is not goodbye, partner."

The end for today let us begin our tomorrows.


End file.
